


(Not) Everybody wants to rule the world

by BialyLis



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Antarctic Empire, Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good for them, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Kinda happy?, No Beta, Nobody wants to rule the world, Phil is not a great dad, Pre-Dream SMP, Self-Worth Issues, Sibling Bonding, Tubbo is mentioned, he's really not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:15:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28178979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BialyLis/pseuds/BialyLis
Summary: "We can call him Theseus," he suddenly offered.Wilbur grimaced. He didn't like children, but to hurt them right away?"We're not going to call him Theseus," he said firmly.They named the baby "Theseus".Or: When King Phil and Prince Techno are busy ruling the kingdom, Wilbur is actually raising Tommy on his own.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 70
Kudos: 1188





	1. The Tower

**Author's Note:**

> I love AU where "Theseus" is Tommy's real name!  
> Also, I apologize to everyone for Canon!Dadza  
> Friendship ended with Canon!Dadza. Now Fanon!Dadza is my best friend!

Wilbur never liked being royalty.

No, let's start otherwise.

Wilbur never liked being part of his family, which happened to be royal. When he was younger he often felt bad about it, he was almost sure that everyone around him could read his emotions easily, that he was ungrateful, insensitive, and couldn't appreciate what he got from life. With time, as he grew older, he became indifferent to his remorse. Like so many other things going on around him, but for the most part no one considered him valued enough to let him know at all. Not that he was complaining. Usually, it wasn't really important anyway.

Like the birth of a new brother. He had known about it for about eight months, but somehow he had never recorded it as a particularly important event. He had it in the back of his head, somewhere between another banquet and the peasant revolt. All in all, he was a bit surprised when the baby actually appeared, as material as possible and a little too alive for his ten-year-old taste. Certainly loud.

Wilbur cast one quick glance at them and nodded his head in forced appreciation, because that was what was expected of him. Techno, in turn, stared at the baby for a long moment, and with every passing second seemed less and less interested in its existence.

"We can call him Theseus," he suddenly offered.

Wilbur grimaced. He didn't like children, but to hurt them right away? At the beginig?

"We're not going to call him Theseus," he said firmly.

They named the baby "Theseus".

Of course they called the baby Theseus.

It was a horrible, really awful name. And surprisingly fitting, because Theseus was the worst thing that had happened to the kingdom since the Great Plague and maybe that one invasion of the Hermitcraft army... Well, no, not really. The army destroyed only a few villages and practically rebounded from the wall surrounding the capital. The youngest of the princes was wreaking havoc in the very center of the palace, and no one could simply pour a bucket of hot tar on him or impale him. They "couldn't", not "didn't want to." Wilbur wanted very, very much at times.

Like when his younger brother suddenly burst into his room completely uninvited and rearranged all things according to his own ideas. It should be added that the idea usually boiled down to "That's a very nice sculpture. A really nice sculpture. Do you know where it would look even prettier? In my room!". Or when he started asking strange questions. "Wilbur, what for?", "Wilbur, what is that?", "Wilbur, why do you have such a scar on your side?"

Wilbur didn't want to answer a billion questions an hour. Especially about the scar. He still remembered how much it hurt when the blade pierced his side. How fast his heart beat, how his breath burned in his throat, how his eyes stung with rising tears. He remembered Techno's face and his eyes, wide and wild, remembered the chill of the earth as his brother knocked him off his feet, and the terrifying realization that he could not reach a dropped sword. He remembered the blade pointed at the center of his chest and his father's hand changing direction at the last moment.

He still remembered the blood trickling between his fingers as he tried to stop the bleeding. His father sat a bit further away, hands on Techno's shoulders, trying to comfort him. Wilbur, apparently, could do on his own.

Wilbur was always on his own.

Theseus probably had it after him. Or he had simply never found a companion self-destructive enough to endure in his company. In any case, Wilbur had never seen him spend time with any other child. Mostly he would run around the castle, steal what he considered valuable, demolish the rest, and at the end of the day he would run into the dining room dirty and eat up more food than many villages produced in a year. Not that anyone but Wilbur was paying attention to him. Mostly because only Wilbur was in the dining room most of the time. My father, by chance, always had more important things on his mind, and Techno appeared and disappeared gods knows where at any times of the day and night without any specific schedule.

Wilbur was the only one who stood over his brother's head, mourning about not eating with his dirty hands. He was also the only one to send him to the bath when the layer of dirt became too painful for his eyes, forcing him to hand over stolen things and putting him to sleep (though only so that he himself could finally fall asleep without being tormented by a million words per second). And, perhaps most importantly, the only one who actually checked what the kid was doing all day every now and then.

And Theseus usually didn't do any good.

"It's the ugliest thing I've ever seen in my life," he assessed, without even trying to guess what exactly "the thing" was supposed to be.

Theseus, too busy nailing nails into crooked boards with his own shoe (Why didn't he steal someone's hammer? Wilbur wasn't going to ask), jumped at a voice behind his back.

"Wilby!", he shouted (of course he shouted) indignantly, hands on his hips. Wilbur had no idea where he might have seen it, but he had to admit it looked quite funny.

"Don't call me that", he muttered anyway, quite automatically, for perhaps the millionth time in his life. And for the millionth time, in response he heard the perverse 'Okay, Wilby'. "I'm serious, stop it. If you don't stop, I'll start calling you..." he thought for a moment, looking for the most horrible name, but the truth is, the worst one he could find was still his brother's real name. So in the end he just mumbled something under his breath and nudged a pile of boards with his foot.

Theseus immediately rushed to the wood to save it, embracing the rickety structure and glared at his brother indignantly.

"Leave it! This is my tower!"

Wilbur looked at the would-be flame again. And then again, more angled. No matter from which side he was looking, he still did not see a tower-like one anywhere.

"How does it look like a tower?" He looked at his brother with some kind of admiration. "You live in a palace, how can you not know what the tower looks like?"

The boy puffed up his cheeks, his face scowling, and Wilbur felt a surge of strange feeling. Sometimes he had them when he and his brother stayed together too long, something like concern or tenderness...? Except that neither of these feelings was ever connected with his brother in any logical way. Theseus was annoying. He was loud, stubborn, destructive and determined to make Wilbur's life a living hell.

Wilbur knows that perfectly well. It was too painful to pass by. But sometimes - only sometimes! - when he looked at his brother, he just thought maybe...

"You have to do it more like this," he said before he could bite his tongue, and he reached for the nearest plank. As soon as it moved an inch, the entire structure crumbled to the ground, and Theseus groaned with a mixture of frustration and annoyance. "Oh, be quiet, no. I'll show you how to do it right."

Wilbur was a bit surprised when Tommy really listened to what he was saying. It surprised him even more that he took every word very seriously and put into practice with dedication worthy of a more important cause. Not that nobody ever listened to Wilbur, sometimes he managed to insert his opinion, and there were times when his opinion was even taken into account. Mostly when Techno endorsed it. Maybe that was the main problem. This unpleasant feeling that his words have no value if he's not promoted by someone more important than him, someone "more experienced", someone "older", someone "wiser".

Theseus had no one like this. He only had Wilbur, and he didn't seem to feel the victim at all. He did not think that he had come across an inferior advisor, did not demand that "it be agreed with someone else". He seemed grateful that his brother was devoting his time to him.

Theseus - Wilbur realized suddenly with astonishment - just _liked him_.

The final structure still didn't look like a tower, but the boy stared at it as if it was a gift from the gods. Wilbur lifted him up and held him by the waist as he balanced on the top edge, watching the sights as if he were really more then a meter and a half above the ground.

"Wilbur, I want to build another one! Over there! Wilby, there, there!"

Wilbur smiled completely unconsciously, coming to the beginning that he was slowly starting to like the nickname. He put the boy back in place and for a moment watched as he impatiently gathered up the remaining planks to be hauled to the new construction site.

"Tommy," he decided suddenly, to his own surprise. "I'll call you Tommy."

The boy frowned and looked at him closely.

"Does it mean something ugly?"

Wilbur rolling his eyes.

"No, you idiot. It means…”, he hesitated for a moment. He glanced at his brother, staring at him with large expectant eyes, and for the first time he decided to succumb to this strange, warm feeling. "It means you're okay."

Theseus... No, _Tommy_ , beamed instantly. He sprang up on his feet and ran somewhere between the trees to return with a stick in his hand.

"Show me how to write that down!"

He practically bounced on the spot as Wilbur scribbled letters in the sand, then circled a few times, making headlines remember, go from all angles.

"It's easy!", he assessed, seriously. "I will know how to spel it!"

Wilbur rolling his eyes.

"Are you telling me you don't know how to spel your reall name?", He laughed, but quickly stopped when the boy crossed his arms over his chest, mumbling "Because it's hard...".

He rubbed his eyes. It will be necessary to do a little better job on educating his little brother. If there was a second Great Plague and all the rest went to hell, it would be good for the country not to end up in the hands of the illiterate.

  
  



	2. The Protector

Wilbur would never admit it out loud, but he knew he was a little, slightly overprotective. In his defense, Tommy showed a whole spectrum of self-destructive behavior, and by now he was saved from death probably only by divine intervention. Wilbur usualy was stoic to this, letting the boy combine cause and effect himself. If he fells then he fells, if he breaks his nose - oh well. He only intervened when things were getting really bad and the risk of dying skyrocketed. He wanted to teach the gremlin a lesson, not organize a funeral.

There was only one exception, when that strategy did not work. Whenever Tommy miraculously managed not only to find Techno, but also to convince him to spare three seconds on his busy schedule, Wilbur would be hit by sudden paranoia. Because of course that of all the possible activities in the world Tommy wanted to duel with his brother and of course that their practice swords were wooden and the worst thing he could do with it was stick a splinter in his finger and of course that Techno didn't fight seriously and sometimes even deliberately planting himself to give the kid satisfaction... Wilbur didn't care. Wilbur still remembered the way Techno looked at him, seconds before he tried to make a sieve out of his chest. He still remembered that he hadn't expected it at all, because Techno was his brother and yes, sometimes he had... problems with aggression, but never with him, never like that.

Wilbur watched Tommy laugh and dodge the wooden sword, and the scar on his side burning him as if it were still a fresh wound.

He really tried not to think about it. He tried to deny that memory, focus on anything else, something nice, after all, he had good fucking memories of Techno! He left Tommy in the courtyard, telling himself he was well looked after. He was safe. Wilbur trusted Techno. He would trust him with his own life.

But maybe not necessarily with Tommy's life ..

He tried to focus on the music and to some extent he even succeeded. Until a good hour later Tommy burst into his room, without knocking, of course, and looking as if he had lived in the woods for at least a week and had to dig up potatoes himself to keep from starving. Wilbur was just getting ready to make a comment on the subject, and certainly absolutely forbidden to approach the clean sheets with his dirty paws, but he bit his tongue when he saw his brother's expression.

Tommy was rarely sad. Mainly because he didn't really cared about things, but he was also naturally cheerful and optimistic. If, however, he was worried, it was obvious at first glance. He was getting strangely quiet, sticking to Wilbur even more than normal, he mumbled under his breath instead of screaming... In a word - he was becoming a slightly more tolerated version of himself.

Wilbur didn't like seeing him like this. His brain would automatically jump to "protect Tommy!" mode and the alarm continued until he was sure his little brother was safe.

"Hey, what's up?", he asked, setting his lute aside.

Tommy immediately accepted the silent invitation and slapped on the bed, putting all the dirty, very dirty weight on his brother's chest. He muttered something more incomprehensible under his breath.

Wilbur frowned.

"Tommy, you have to stop mutter, I don't understand you."

The boy made a sound between a groan and a frustrated growl, but obediently raised his head.

"I think... I think I did something to myself. In hand." He raised his left arm. "I fought Techno and it hurts now."

Even before he finished speaking, Wilbur was already holding his hand, examining it carefully from every possible angle. He tried to move his wrist and Tommy hissed.

"Don't do that!"

"It's not really broken." Wilbur was holding his brother's hand enough so that he couldn't break free, but carefully enough not to hurt him more. "I think it's just a twist. Some ice and it'll be fine in a few days. You hit it with a sword?" Tommy nodded? . "Bad?" Another nod. "Why didn't you tell Techno? He knows better about ... such issues."

He wanted to punch himself. Yes, Wilbur, bravo, smart idea - tell him straight away that you are useless...

Meanwhile, Tommy blushed and looked down.

"Because Techno is..." he muttered, nibbling the thread on his pants with his free hand. "Techno is so cool. He can fight and he can do all these... adult things. And, well ... And that was a bit of my fault, because he showed me how the block parries and I wanted to do it, but it didn't work out a little and..." He bit his lip. "I was afraid that he would laugh at me. That I couldn't do it."

Wilbur felt the bitterness in him evaporate instantly, replaced by a wave of warmth - a mixture of sympathy and pity that only Tommy could evoke in him.

"Oh, Tommy." He pulled the boy closer. He didn't have to wait long for kid to hug him back. And then he grimaced, as he must have misaligned his twisted wrist. "Tommy, Techno would never laugh at you," he promised, though he wasn't so sure. "Actually, I'm the one who laugh at you the most."

The boy stepped back to take a look at him.

"Yeah, but that's different." He shrugged. "You laugh when I do something stupid, but you help when something hurts."

Wilbur... was definitely not prepared when he encountered something so... nice. Warm. Of course he know that Tommy always comes to him, always bother him with more or less bullshit problems, but he assumed it was a lack of another possibility. He had never thought before that he might be his brother's first choise. That Tommy might just want to confide in him. That he trusts him.

It was nice. It was very, very nice - feeling wanted at last.


	3. The little Knight

Wilbur wasn't entirely sure where exactly Tubbo came from.

One day when he came came to see what damagehis brother had done today, he heard loud laughter, and then not one, but two small gremlins ran into the courtyard. Both were equally covered with earth, their hair soaked, and they had hands full of stones.

Wilbur ignored the clothes - Tommy was destroying things higher than they could be sewed. He didn't even want to ask about the stones - sooner or later he would know the answer when his younger brother made use of them in some destructive way. But he definitely preferred to know who the new companion of sowing chaos was.

As if reading his mind, Tommy stuffed stones into his pocket (goodbye, last hope to get his pants washed) and put his hands on Gremlin Number Two's shoulders with a very formal expression, leaving muddy marks on his shirt.

"Wilbur, this is Tubbo. He's a knight."

Wilbur looked at the boy. The boy looked at him. He could be Tommy's age, maybe older, somewhere between eight and nine. He was slightly shorter, with dark, disheveled hair, a tanned complexion, and he was smiling broadly and innocently.

He could be anything but definitely not a knight.

"He's not a knight," Wilbur scowled at his brother. "Tommy, did you take someone's squire away? He might get into trouble, you know that?"

"I work in the garden," said Tubbo, and oh, that at least explained why one of them looked like he was diged down to his neck in a composter.

"Tubbooo...!" Tommy shook the boy, clearly unhappy at the lack of cooperation. "You are a knight now! He is a knight!" He transferred steal look to his brother. Every time he looked like that, the need to tease him increased in Wilbur by three hundred percent. "He was knighted by me, and now he's my personal knight!"

"Tommy, you really can't do that."

"Papa King said I can!"

Wilbur rubbed his eyes. Of course father said he could. Of course. Wilbur wonder if he even heard the question. If one day Tommy burns down the whole village for no reason and says “Papa King allowed me!" Wilbur wouldn't be surprised.

"Tommy, no." He really would just simply let boys to play... whatever game they were playing, but he didn't want them to get into trouble for that. Especially the little gardener, whose only fault was the terrible taste in choosing friends. And maybe a lack of self-preservation instinct. "That is not possible. It does not work like that. This is... this is a whole very complicated procedure and you would know this, if you would sometimes listen when I'm trying to teach you anything."

Tommy puffed up his cheeks.

"When I'll be the king", he grunted, kicking a stone that he had to drop earlier "this whole 'procedure' will crash..."

Wilbur added another point to his list of "reasons this country will eventually collapse."

"Tommy, you are literally last in line to the throne."

"Well, yes, but I'm the only one who actually _want_ to rule!"

Wilbur froze for a second, mouth half open. He wanted to say something, to know he wanted to say something, but the words had evaporated immediately, and now his head was just blank. He blinked, feeling a little like seeing his brother for the first time in his life.

Because Tommy... Tommy was right. Wilbur had never admitted it, either loudly or even softly, in front of himself, but being king was about as attractive as being impaled on a sword. All in all, no observable difference - a lot of west, a lot of suffering, and a woman is probably crying in the background. Techno? Techno had his own strange rules, which Wilbur didn't always agree with. Techno fought for their father, not for the country, family or crown. Wilbur couldn't even say if he would have fought for him or Tommy. The crown was probably somewhere at the end of his list of priorities. It wouldn't surprise anyone if he abdicated a second after someone had forcibly put it on his head.

Tommy... well, he was eight years old and infatuated with a vision of being king, a vision full of colors, childishly naive, and so far from the truth that in the future there would come an inevitable, very painful disappointment.

Wilbur hoped it would be later than sooner. He hoped that when it happened, he would be there to help.

Tommy's misfortune wasn't that he was the last in line to the throne, but that he had no one to shift the burden to.

So far he was happy and safe and Wilbur decided to let him living a nice illusion.

"So let it be, _sir Tubbo_ ," he snorted, and smiled back as both boys beamed with happiness.

The future king and his little knight.


	4. The only reason

Wilbur was twenty when he realised that he had had enough.

He had had enough for a long time, but he had pushed it aside, allowing himself to naively believe that the castle didn't feel like a prison, that in the evening he didn't had panic attacks, knowing that in a few hours he would have to get up and do the same thing over and over again, that every morning he didn't stand by the window and don't think that if he leaned out a little, a little more, maybe, in fact, it probably wouldn't be something wrong...

It wasn't just that he felt overwhelmed by pressure or that he was tired. After all, no one required absolutely nothing from him except "stand straight, smile and look nice". And, to be honest, that was probably the problem. Wilbur felt horribly redundant in the palace and even more out of place, surrounded by people who pretended he was important, but they questioned every answer as soon as he was out of sight. He felt so fucking out of place in his own familly, always somewhere on set and in the shadows. He was a prince, but his authority was only a nicely decorated shell. And Wilbur so, oh, how desperately needed to prove himself. He needed something new, something of his own, something from scratch, he needed to find his place maybe not in history, but at least in the people's memory. Somewhere far away from home, where nothing will remind him of how easily he got erased and ignored.

Perhaps it could be some form of encouragement. Perhaps fate had decided that he needed a friendly push, because he would never dare to jump into the unknown. Maybe somewhere in the universe there was some force sincerely wants to help him.

Wilbur hated all of them. He hated his father whosuddenly wanted to conquer the world, he hated Techno who took his place by his side, as always, he hated that fucking palace where he was imprisoned because apparently everyone just remembered that he was a prince! Second in line to the throne! He hated people whispering in the corners and giving him furtive glances. They were afraid. They were afraid that if he only took the country into care for more than two days, he would ruin it and dance over its ashes. They ignored him for twenty long years, questioned his every opinion, dismissed every idea, and now looked at him like a traitor before anything even happened!

There was absolutely no logical reason for him to stay here, nothing kept him in the palace, absolutely nothing...! Nothing but ...

He pushed aside the bag in which he tried to fit clothes, food for a few days, money and preferably a lute. Tommy stood in the doorway of the room, rocking on his heels, staring down at his feet. For a moment, one brief moment, Wilbur felt like snarling at him to go away, disappear, preferably cease to exist, and take away all the remorse he caused. But then the boy looked up and Wibur felt an unpleasant tightness in his heart at the sight of his wet eyes.

"You're leaving too" he stated more than asked. Wilbur sighed heavily and pushed his bag aside, sitting on the bed. He patted the seat next to him, encouraging his brother to sit down, but Tommy, incredible, did not accept the invitation. "Papa King is leaving," he only muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, perhaps more to give himself a little comfort than to show offense. "And Techno is leaving. Do I... Do I have to stay here alone?"

Wilbur had no idea how to answer that.

He didn't want to leave his brother, not in this palace, not with those people, not with this family, which may never have disinherit him, but never paid much attention to him either. Well, at least they remembered he existed. Tommy couldn't say that about himself. He was a bit like the wind howling in the middle of the night - sometimes it kept you awake, loud and tiring, but over time it becames only one of a million background sounds that you automatically ignored.

Wilbur really didn't want to leave him. Even less so, he didn't want to be alone without him.

He forced a smile.

"You always wanted to be a king, right?"

"Yeah... I've been thinking about it lately," Tommy muttered, starting to sway again. When he got nervous, he spoke too fast and slurred and Wilbur had to concentrate to go understand. "It could even be fun. Being the king. But that sounds so stupid, doesn't it? 'King Theseus'. It's so stupid. I can't even write that down correctly."

"You can write that down." Wilbur put in, knowing for sure that if this little shit he raised himself, is still not able to properly introduce himself... His ego wouldn't survive such a serious blow.

"But I don't like writing it! That sounds silly! It's stupid! I don't want to... I don't want to sound silly, Wil- Wilbur."

In the silence of a few seconds, they both sensed what was about to happen, but when the words was finally spoke Wilbur felt completely taken by surprise.

"I want to go with you."

He shook his head.

"Tommy... No. You can't"

The boy frowned.

"Of course I can."

"Tommy..." Wilbur took a deep breath as he prepared to deliver all the logical lists, arguments that made sense.

He did't even know where he was going. They could get lost. Someone might attack them. They might wander aimlessly for months before they finally find a place to live. They might never find a place. It could be cold, it could be rainy, they could be sick, tired, injured...

But when Tommy straightened up and looked him in the eye again, Wilbur knew that all his arguments were for nothing. That it doesn't make sense for one simple reason: because Tommy cares about him as much as he cares about Tommy. And Tommy wouldn't let his brother be hungry in the middle of the forest, hungry and exhausted and alone. Because any argument against taking Tommy was the argument against going solo.

Wilbur felt something inside him crack. A wall that had crumbled, piece by piece over the past years.

"You'd have to leave everything behind"! He almost shouted, spreading his arms wide. "You'd have to leave everyone behind, Tommy, don't you understand? You wouldn't have anything. You would be…” He paused for a moment and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "We would be alone. It would be just you and me".

_And I am never enough._

Tommy smiled and looked at him with a seriousness completely unlike a ten-year-old.

"Wilby. But it _always_ was just you and me."

They slept together, cuddling one another, and if either of them cried that night - nobody had to know.

Nobody had to know that at the crack of dawn the princes and the little knighted gardener had slipped out through the castle gate. Nobody had to know that they had no plan and they just wanted to keep going. Nobody had to know that they had left the kingdom without a bit of regret.

Nobody had to know that Tommy never introduced himself as "Theseus" again.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for my shity grammar. Whatever's wrong - sounded good in my first language.


End file.
